


More Cat Tales

by ReneeMR



Series: Touch Not the Cat [2]
Category: Highlander
Genre: Cat, Cindy - Freeform, EXTREME kitty-fic, Highlander - Freeform, M/M, MacLeod - Freeform, Methos/MacLeod - Freeform, Sphynx, methos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-07
Updated: 2002-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeMR/pseuds/ReneeMR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Adam's Universe: Touch Not the Cat' but can be read as a stand-alone. Methos' cat, Cindy the Sphynx, grows up.</p><p>The real Cindy can be seen here</p><p>http://f1.grp.yahoofs.com/v1/4GRhSoqPHS5zPXZ5cClhYgthCWFqwnzsEU7-kR0P9uoleQV9toKDQKgVnCPKpNUAdNUA8DAz--NbdUt3McD0/The%20Real%20Cindy.bmp</p><p>"One cat in a house is a sign of loneliness, two of barrenness, and three of sodomy."</p><p>Edward Dahlberg (1900-1977)</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Cat Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Scot rolled his head from side to side and groaned. He flung out both hands to grab the comforter and took a deep, shuddering breath.

A sudden sharp, shooting pain in his chest caused his eyes to fly open. He stared into liquid green-gold eyes.

"Yow. Son of a fucking..."

*Mieu*

Methos' cat was standing with both front paws squarely on his sternum.

"What the hell?"

Cindy blinked, then nuzzled his chin and rubbed her head on his cheek.

"Methos!"

"Mmmmmmh?"

"Oh, God, fuck..." MacLeod raised his head to look down on his lover.

"Mmmmmmh?" The ancient man again hummed his question around the cock he was busily fellating. There was an absolutely evil glint in his eyes. He gave another slurping suck. Then let MacLeod's cock go with an audible pop. He moved so he could rest his head on his lover's hard belly. Reached up to caress the smooth, hairless body. Of his cat.

Cindy minced down MacLeod's torso. *Mieu*

"Fuck! Ow, ow, ow, ow!" The Scot glared down at the old man. "Stop laughing, you maniac."

"Hey!" MacLeod sat up even more when he realized the cat had stopped. And was busy investigating a certain prominent portion of his anatomy.

After a while the older immortal finally managed to stop laughing. "Oh, god, Mac, she just wants to know what's going on." Methos rolled onto his back beside his lover and moved Cindy to cuddle against him. "You have to  
admit, she sees us having fun."

"Yeah." MacLeod had to give Methos a point there. "But why the hell now?"

"Our baby's growing up, MacLeod." Methos blew a soft raspberry on Cindy's belly. Then caught his lover off guard when he repeated the raspberry on the Scot's belly. "She's eight months old, almost sexually mature."

The Highlander gave Methos a very strange look. "And what has that got to do with anything," he asked pointedly.

"Well..." The ancient man reached out and walked his fingers delicately across MacLeod's chest to tweak a nipple. "Cat's learn by example." Then Methos leaned over and sucked the younger man's other tit.

"Shit." The Scot's waning erection sprang back to life. "Cut the crap, Methos. That's bull."

"Unh uh," came the somewhat muffled reply. Then the old man leaned back and smirked. He wrapped one long hand around his lover's cock and stroked caressingly.

"Enough about the cat, Mac. Let's fuck."

 

A few nights later, MacLeod was wakened by pathetic sounds coming from the vicinity of his lover's groin. In a panic, he wrenched away the covers. "Methos!"

"Huh, wha?" The ancient immortal looked up at MacLeod and glared. "This had better be fucking important. I was dreaming about Obi-Wan."

The Scot snorted. He never knew if Methos was kidding about this Obi-Wan obsession or not. In any case, he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. When he looked back, he found Cindy watching him. Still curled between Methos thighs. With her head resting on...

He shook his head. Spoiled. Spoiled absolutely rotten. And he wasn't exactly sure which of them was the worst. Methos or Cindy.

"So, want to tell me what the hell is going on? And give me back the covers."

MacLeod sighed. "Cindy. She was making weird noises. I've never heard her make sounds like that," he said as he complied with his lover's command.

"Well, she's quiet now." Methos raised the comforter and looked at the cat. She was already asleep. He caressed her smooth body, then resettled the covers. "Whatever it was, she's fine now."

He reached out and pulled MacLeod in for a kiss. "Go back to sleep. We have an early morning."

 

Cindy stood on the highest branch of her cat tree and screamed. The Highlander came careening out of the bath.

"Methos..." He stopped and looked at his placid mate. He looked at Cindy. The piercing screeches were truly horrible to hear.

"Methos."

The older immortal finished filling in another space in his crossword puzzle, and finally looked up. "Mac?"

The Scot sighed. "What's wrong with the cat?" She was still yowling. Louder, if that was possible.

"Nothing."

MacLeod counted to ten. Slowly. "Methos, why is the cat making noises like a banshee?"

"What?" He looked over at Cindy, then back at his lover. "Oh. That. She's calling."

"Calling? Methos, she's fucking screaming bloody fucking murder."

"MacLeod, she's in heat."

"Methos, we have central air. It's seventy-five degrees in here..."

The old man just stared at him for a full minute. Then he began to chuckle. The chuckle became a laugh, and then Methos truly lost it.

When he finally stopped laughing, there were tears running down his face and he was hiccuping. MacLeod went and got him a glass of water.

"All right, want to explain what was so fucking hysterical?"

Methos couldn't look at the Scot. "Mac... Heat as in estrus. She's calling for a mate." Giggles threatened again when the old man tried to look at MacLeod.

"Oh. And how long will this go on?"

"Uh, well, a week."

"A week."

"Or longer."

"Longer?!"

"Um hum."

"And how long will she keep doing--that."

"As long as she's awake."

"Oh, God. Can't we do anything?"

"Well, she's too young to breed. And I did promise I'd let her have one litter. I guess you could try to fake her out."

"What?"

"You, um, take a Q-tip..."

The Scot cut him off before he could go on. "Never mind. I'll live with the banshee."

Methos rose up gracefully from his sprawl on the couch. He looked speculatively at his lover. The damp Scot flushed so damn prettily when he realized how vulnerable he was, the old man decided. Smiling, he moved closer to MacLeod. One long hand reached for the towel tucked so negligently around the Scot's waist.

MacLeod took an involuntary step back. Sometimes--sometimes, the possessive, predatory look Methos got almost scared him. It also made him instantly erect.

"Oh, Mac, for me," the old man purred his question. Then he pounced. With an ease that came from practice--lots of practice--he maneuvered his lover into the sleeping alcove and onto the bed.

"Methos..."

"Shhh, Highlander." The ancient, still fully clothed, crawled atop his lover. "Do you know what you do? What you make me want to do?" He leaned forward and captured MacLeod's mouth for a toe-curling kiss.

The Scot was breathless. And wanting. Needing. He really needed Methos. And he told him so in unmistakable terms.

"Fuck. Now."

Methos grinned. He already had the lube out. "Feeling lucky, Mac?"

"Yeah, yeah I am." The Scot reached for the zipper of his lover's jeans. "Come on, do it..."

"Don't be pushy, MacLeod." Methos was taking his time.

"Me-thos!"

"Yes, Mac!" Without further warning, the old man rolled his partner over onto his hands and knees. He didn't even bother to take down his jeans. One smooth thrust and he was fully sheathed in the other man.

"Ah, fuck," MacLeod moaned. He felt Methos' breath on his neck. The cotton of his tee shirt on his back. The roughness of his jeans on his ass. A callused hand on his weeping cock. He couldn't contain his explosive orgasm as his prostate was stimulated.

He collapsed, and Methos followed him.

"Gods, Mac, you are so fucking hot," the old immortal breathed.

"Hm..." MacLeod sighed. "Hey, Cindy's quiet. Must be asleep."

Methos' chuckle sounded softly in his ear. "Nope, Mac. She just stopped to watch." He turned his lover so he could see Cindy sitting on the bedside table.

The Highlander groaned.

 

SIX MONTHS LATER

The day the stud arrived, Methos had been called in to an emergency meeting at the college. MacLeod drove to the airport to pick up the cat. Fortunately, everything went smoothly, and the trip there and back was uneventful.

Not so the rest of the day.

The Highlander had put the pet carrier in the middle of the floor, and opened the door. Five seconds later a naked black form streaked out and under the couch.

Cindy, immediately attracted by something new in her territory, walked over to investigate. First the crate. Then the scent trail that led under the couch. Her couch.

Her back arched, and if she had had fur, it would have been standing on end. She crouched down on her belly to peer into the darkness.

MacLeod watched, smiling. Confident that the two would soon be friends. Six months of biweekly active heats would be over. Not to mention the blatant come hither looks the cat was giving him. Or the constant little displays. He thought back to the first time it had happened. Methos had practically died laughing.

Yes, soon it would be over. Forever. Cindy would have her kittens, and be 'fixed.' The cat gods were smiling, and all was right in MacLeod's little world.

Until the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle and he heard an inexplicable high, keening whine. A threat. The threat of an untamed predator. A feral, jungle sound.

Coming from... Cindy. He could barely wrap his brain around the fact that her delicate, smooth body could hold such absolute venomous hate.

And every iota of it was aimed directly at the cowering stud.

Before he could move, Cindy snaked under the couch and there was a series of snarls, hisses, growls and thumps. And at the end, a high-pitched scream that sounded like someone being tortured.

Then both cats went flying out from under the couch, and the stud ended up hanging in the bed drapes. While Cindy sat on the floor below. Licking her lips. Anticipating...

 

"Gods, Mac, I told you not to let him out." Methos was holding the trembling tom and putting antibiotic cream on his scratches. Cindy sat outside the bath's door and cried in protest. Her humans had never kept her out. Never. And now they were in there with that, that *beast*.

"But, Methos, what's the point in having him here if she's going to try to kill him every time..."

The old man looked up at his lover. "She'll get over it.

"Trust me."

The tom, Onyx, was exiled to the guest room. Cindy sat outside and peered under the door and muttered imprecations.

 

MacLeod heard the laughter as he neared the front door. Methos. He opened the door and went in. Hung up his coat and left his wallet and keys on the table beside the door.

He took his briefcase into the living area and put it on his desk.

"Mac!" Methos went to him and kissed him hello. But he was still laughing.

"Methos, what's so funny?"

"God, Mac, come and see..." He pointed to the cats.

The Highlander looked, then shook his head. "What? I don't... Hey, they're not fighting."

"Not any more."

"So are they...you know..."

Methos looked at his lover. He started laughing again. "Um, no. Onyx... Well, just look."

MacLeod watched for several minutes. He frowned. What he was seeing just didn't make sense.

Finally he turned back to Methos. "They don't seem to know--how to..."

"They don't. Well, really, he doesn't." The old man looked pointedly at his lover. "I do believe a demonstration is in order."

"No. N. O. Methos, that's..." The Scot couldn't believe his lover was suggesting such a thing. Wait. It was Methos, after all. He could believe.

 

End


End file.
